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I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?

William Shakespeare

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William Shakespeare
Age: 51 †
Born: 1564
Born: April 26
Died: 1616
Died: April 23
Actor
Dramaturge
Playwright
Poet
Stage Actor
Writer
Stratford-upon-Avon
Warwickshire
Shakespeare
The Bard
The Bard of Avon
William Shakspere
Swan of Avon
Bard of Avon
Shakespere
Shakespear
Shakspeare
Shackspeare
William Shake‐ſpeare
Dies
Anything
Wells
Well
Charitably
Dispose
Argument
Battle
Blood

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Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, Where death's approach is seen so terrible!
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O the world is but a word were it all yours to give it in a breath, how quickly were it gone!
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When the sun shines let foolish gnats make sport, But creep in crannies when he hides his beams.
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Crack'd in pieces by malignant Death.
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We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
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The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness, And in the taste confounds the appetite: Therefore love moderately— long love doth so.
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Great men may jest with saints 'tis wit in them But, in the less foul profanation.
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Come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me in her sight
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If love be blind, it best agrees with night
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Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself.
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They are but beggars that can count their worth.
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O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.
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